


When All Is Said And Done

by mousedeer



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Brief Descriptions of Self-Harm, Established Relationship, Fluff, Growing Old Together, Hurt/Comfort, I swear this is actually super fluffy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousedeer/pseuds/mousedeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Order has fallen, and General Hux is sent into exile in a lonely corner of the galaxy. Ren chooses to go with him, and somehow, over the course of a few decades, they manage to make things work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When All Is Said And Done

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back and I've finally finished a new fic!! This is based on [this](http://xan-drei.tumblr.com/image/144386133746) amazing piece of art by [xan-drei](http://xan-drei.tumblr.com) featuring Older!Hux and Older!Kylo
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy reading :D

Somewhere deep within the farthest reaches of the galaxy, on a lonely green planet containing little more than a lonely outpost and a few scattered villages, was a house.

The house, too, was a lonely one – it had no other neighbours, and was surrounded on all sides by vast, empty fields. Even the nearest village was about a day’s journey away by speeder. Its ancient walls were stained with grime, the windows were cracked and dirty, and a corner of the roof had a large, gaping hole torn right through it, where years of rainwater had poured in and ruined a significant portion of the bedroom floor. The back door of the house had once led out into a garden, but now all that was left of it was a messy tangle of vines and overgrown weeds, along with tall spindly trees that cast odd shadows over the house in the night.

The inside of the house was no better. Its previous occupants – whoever they were – had left in a hurry, and as such, the pantry was well-stocked with sour milk and mouldy bread, and the furniture that remained was covered with a thick layer of dust. The stairs leading to the second floor were in danger of falling apart at any moment, and a small family of rats had made a home underneath the musty old covers of the bed.

Yet for all its faults, the new owners of the house found it to be perfectly agreeable. After all, it was quiet and secluded and largely intact, and given that they were living in exile and hiding from most of the galaxy, that was more than enough.

* * *

Ren was never meant to be there, was never _supposed_ to be there in fact, but then again, he had always been stubborn.

The Senate had been surprisingly merciful – despite the sheer magnitude of his war crimes, Hux would be spared execution, and instead be banished to a remote part of the galaxy for the remainder of his life. Luke Skywalker had suggested the place – he’d found it during the course of his travels – and Leia Organa was to personally oversee his deportation. Hux himself had kept silent throughout the entire trial, his face a blank canvas. He had been trained in the Academy to keep his emotions in check, and to the thousands of curious eyes that watched him, he did an admirable job of it. What they didn’t see, though, was his shackled hands balled into tight fists, his nails digging into his skin so hard they drew blood.

When it came time for them to board the shuttle, however, they had found Ren standing by the door and blocking the entrance. He looked the same as he always did – in his dark, heavy robes, his lightsaber slung at his waist – with the exception of his face, which was exposed for all the world to see. His gleaming helmet was tucked under his arm.

Leia stopped short when she saw him, as did Hux, who had been walking numbly behind her, accompanied by a small troop of Resistance fighters. As far as he knew, Ren was supposed to be locked up in a cell somewhere as he awaited trial. He was not supposed to be out and about, not with his lightsaber in tow and _definitely_ not here, within the heart of the Resistance.

In front of him, Leia was rigid, tense, but when she spoke her voice was cool and authoritative, betraying none of the conflicted emotions that roiled within her.  

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know that.”

Ren’s eyes flickered over to Hux for a brief second before coming back to rest on Leia’s face.

“Do they know you’ve escaped?”

“They will soon enough.”

Leia regarded him, searching for the precocious young boy she had once called her son. But the tall man standing in front of her was an enigma, a stranger, as familiar as a figure half-glimpsed in a long-forgotten dream. He was no longer Ben Organa-Solo. At least, not as she had known him.

Finally she asked, “Why have you come here?”

“For him.”

The Resistance troopers surrounding Hux immediately aimed their blasters at him, but Ren made no move to reach for his lightsaber. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on his mother’s face.

“I’m not here to take him away,” he said calmly. “I wish to go with him.”

Hux’s head snapped up in confusion. He desperately wished to hear Ren’s voice in his head, whispering his plans and explaining what was going on, but there was only silence. His heart hammered loudly within his chest.

“Let me go into exile with him,” Ren repeated, a little more forcefully. Then, in a softer voice, “Send me away again, General Organa. It is what I am used to, after all. And I know it’s what you do best.”

That broke her.

“Get into the shuttle,” she said, her voice breaking, and then Hux was swept through the door by the troopers, Ren following close behind. The air around them buzzed with tension as the shuttle took off, and not a single word was spoken throughout the entire journey. If any of the other Resistance members had any objections, they were wise enough to keep it to themselves.

As for Hux, he continued to stare at Ren in bewilderment, trying to figure out his thoughts. But Ren merely gazed out the viewport the whole trip, his fingers drumming aimlessly against the helmet on his lap. Not once did he turn to look at Hux, who was seated across from him.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the little abandoned house, and the moment the shuttle landed, Hux was immediately shoved out. Yet for Ren, it was different. He took his time to get up from his seat, and when he reached the doorway of the shuttle, he turned to face Leia one last time. There would be no tearful goodbyes or heart-wrenching sobs from either of them – that was not their nature. Instead, they simply shared a long and meaningful look between them, letting their eyes do all the talking, until eventually Ren wrenched his head away and stepped off the shuttle onto the grassy field.

As the shuttle doors began to close, Hux thought he heard the voice of Leia, whispering one final blessing.

“May the Force be with you,” she seemed to say.

But the shuttle engines were loud and the wind was howling and screaming around them, so he could never quite be sure about that.

* * *

It was difficult, at first, for Hux to get used to life in the little house. Despite having been born on the rainy world of Arkanis, he had spent the better part of his life living off-planet, on board a series of increasingly impressive starships. And while the Resistance had been kind enough to leave them a large box of basic supplies to tide them over for at least their first couple of years in exile, Hux still found himself struggling to adapt to his new life. He missed the familiar feel of sturdy durasteel under his skin, the wide viewports that looked out into the endless night of space, and the dull but ever-present hum of machinery that permeated the entire ship. Here, in the middle of nowhere, everything felt strange and alien to him.

He tried, he honestly tried, to start anew. To unlearn the painful habits of his past, and the infallible belief in complete order that he had devoted his entire life to, only to have it crumble away miserably at his feet. But no matter how much time he spent wandering amongst the fields, or how many long walks he took down the empty roads leading to the distant village – a village he didn’t even know the name of – the dark shadow of his past dogged his every step. Every morning when he woke up and every night before he went to bed, he heard its soft whispers, felt its cold claws coil malevolently around his neck such that he couldn’t breathe. _Was any of it truly worthwhile?_ it asked. _Or did you waste away half your life chasing a fantasy?_

Most nights, he dreamt of shrieks and of death and of the red, red flame of Starkiller Base, and whenever that happened he would wake up with ice under his skin and a scream caught in his throat.

It was then that Ren would jolt awake, and upon seeing Hux’s ashen face he would immediately wrap his arms around him and pull him close. He would rub soothing circles over Hux’s back, all while letting him sob silently into his shoulder, until he felt the other man slump against him and drift back into a fitful sleep. After that, Ren would lower the pair of them back down onto the mattress, careful not to wake Hux as he did so, and then he, too, would fall back asleep, holding his lover tightly in his arms.

“Ren?” Hux asked sleepily, on a night when the dreams had been especially bad. His words came out sounding muffled, because his face was pressed against the crook of Ren’s neck. “Why did you choose to follow me here, all those weeks ago?”

Hux felt Ren stiffen beneath him. Just as he was beginning to worry that he’d stepped on a landmine, Ren answered him in a voice that was soft and low.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Is that so?” Hux replied, before he could stop himself. “Or were you simply worried about getting lonely yourself?”

The words left a sour taste in his mouth, and he regretted them immediately. He had spent years trading barbs with Ren back when they had been forced to work together in the Order, until he found it hard to keep himself from throwing out insults and rude sneers whenever he could. However, he knew full well that he had no right to do so now, given that the man in question was, in fact, the one thing keeping him from falling apart.

Ren, on the other hand, didn’t appear to be offended. After all, he was used to Hux’s snide remarks, and he responded by dipping his head down and kissing him, as if in doing so, he could smooth away all the edges of his sharp tongue.

“That might be true,” he murmured against Hux’s lips. “But is it so wrong to want to be together?”

“This isn’t – this isn’t a _honeymoon_ , Ren,” protested Hux, although he kissed back with just as much fervour, if not more. “It’s – everything is gone and I don’t even know if it was the right thing to do, if any of it was ever –”

“You’re doing it again,” Ren interrupted. He reached down to gently grasp one of Hux’s hands, and Hux was surprised to see that it was curled into a fist, and that his nails were crusted with blood from where they had been digging into the soft skin of his palm. Funny. He hadn’t noticed the pain.

Slowly, almost reverently, Ren uncurled each one of Hux’s fingers, planting delicate kisses on them and sucking on them lightly to clean away the blood. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Hux’s the entire time, and the whole process seemed sensual and sacred and ridiculously profane all at once.

“You do it whenever you’re stressed,” said Ren, with Hux’s ring finger in his mouth.

Hux scoffed tiredly. “Well, it’s not like I can help it very much, can I?”

“No,” agreed Ren. “But I can help you.”

And then he took hold of both of Hux’s hands, lacing their fingers together, and guided them back down onto the bed.

_You won’t hurt yourself in your sleep this way_ , Ren said in his mind, and though his words were barely a whisper, they drowned out the terrified shouts and cries that still rang in his head. Hux huddled closer to him and buried his head against his chest.

“Thank you, Kylo,” he said quietly, before letting the steady thump of the other man’s heartbeat lull him back to sleep.

* * *

Ren liked to meditate under the hole in the roof.

It was, at this point, more of a skylight than a hole – after the first few rains had left the bedroom temporarily flooded, they had covered it up with a transparisteel pane they’d found in the kitchen. Of course, that didn’t stop the rainwater from seeping in every now and again, particularly during the more violent thunderstorms, but until they could find – or afford – a better solution, it would have to do. Every evening after dinner, Hux was sure to find Ren seated near the foot of the bed, back straight, eyes closed, hands relaxed on his lap. It was a ritual Hux was used to, since Ren had been doing it ever since he first joined the crew of the _Finalizer_. Back then, Hux had secretly found it to be no more than a pointless waste of time, especially when there was always so much work that could be done. Yet, now that he no longer had any work – _no longer had anything_ , something whispered, but he knew it was wrong, because he still had Ren, didn’t he? – he supposed there was no harm in trying.

He sat himself next to Ren one night and imitated his pose. Next to him, he thought he heard Ren let out an amused snort, but when he whipped his head around to look, Ren’s face was the picture of neutrality. He sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate, but it turned out to be surprisingly difficult. The noisy rustling of leaves against the wall and the ceaseless howl of the wind were proving to be especially distracting, and Hux found his mind wandering to other things. What would happen once their limited food supplies ran out? Would they need to sell their possessions? But then again, it wasn’t as if he had anything to sell in the first place…

Hux felt a gentle pressure in the back of his mind, and then Ren was speaking to him soundlessly. _Match my breathing_ , he said, and Hux complied.

Minutes later, he fell asleep.

When he eventually woke up, he had a crick in his back. Ren had shifted to sit behind him in his sleep, and was now curled around him protectively. When he saw that Hux had woken up, he grinned down at him.

“Comfortable?”

Hux gave a loud yawn.

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour, I think.”

With a sigh, he settled back against Ren, feeling that he might fall asleep again soon. Above him, the light of a thousand bright stars shone through the roof, and he was reminded of his old quarters back on the _Finalizer_ , with its gigantic floor-to-ceiling viewport. Hux remembered sitting together with Ren on the bed and gazing out into space, in much the same way as they were doing now. They had been so young then, so confident in their future, nursing wild dreams of conquering the galaxy together hand in hand. And they had laughed and kissed and then laughed some more, because who was to stop them?

He felt a dull ache in the space between his eyes and in his chest, and chose to ignore it. Ren, on the other hand, was quick to sense it.  

“Hux? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Hux replied instinctively. “I mean, I was just – I was just thinking. About home.”

Hux didn’t need to explain any further, for Ren understood immediately. He held him tighter and rested his chin on his head.

“But, Hux,” he said, tenderly, soothingly. “Hux, don’t you see? We’re already home.”

And despite everything, Hux simply couldn’t stop himself from smiling, because he knew Ren was right.

* * *

Hux watched with rapt fascination as the leaves of the trees turned various shades of red and yellow and orange, before falling to the gloomy garden floor and filling it with bright colour. He had never seen such a sight before in his life, and he thought it was beautiful how the death of one thing could lead to life in another. It was, perhaps, somewhat poetic, but Hux had never been particularly interested in poetry – in his youth, he’d always found the works of military strategists to be far more riveting – so he was content to simply stare in wonder as the crisp leaves continued to pile up in the garden, resembling little mounds of gold.

Then the days grew shorter, and colder, and Hux began to spend more and more time indoors with Ren. Sometimes they sat together on the couch, sharing an old blanket and a hot drink, and spoke endlessly about everything and nothing; sometimes they made love, gasping out words of affection as loudly as they liked because this was their own little world, where no one would come to catch them or judge them; most of the time, however, they simply sat side by side at the kitchen table, or on the bedroom floor, listening to the ceaseless patter of rain against the windows in companionable silence.

The faint scars on his palms started to fade, and the nightmares that had once plagued him every single night came far less frequently than before. Instead, he started to dream of trees so tall their branches poked through the clouds, of brilliantly coloured flowers that fell like rain upon the house, and of Kylo Ren with all the stars in the galaxy shining in his hair.

Eventually the rains stopped, the world came back to life, and Hux was surprised to realise that it had been a whole year since they’d first moved into the house. 

* * *

In their third year of exile, a small band of bounty hunters came to kill them.

It was, on some level, inevitable – blowing up five whole planets was bound to make the First Order _some_ enemies of course, and though their location was known only to the Senate and a select few in the Resistance, it was still easily discoverable by anyone with the right combination of skills and determination.

But though this particular group – armed to the teeth with thermal grenades and state-of-the-art blaster rifles – was undoubtedly skilled and determined, what they hadn’t expected to find was the former Master of the Knights of Ren waiting for them at the doorstep, his lightsaber ignited and ready.

To be fair, it wasn’t that they were complacent or negligent in any way. Ren’s escape had been kept a secret from the general public, who mostly assumed that he was still safely locked away far from prying eyes. In order to prevent their image from being dragged through the mud, the Senate had decided to simply leave Ren be in his lonesome corner of the galaxy. After all, it wasn’t as if he was causing anyone any trouble.

What the Senate didn’t know, of course, was that he had just sent six or so highly-trained killers flying backwards with a flick of his wrist. Nor did they know that he then proceeded to brutally fight the rest of them to within an inch of their lives, until they were bruised and bloodied and scrambling to get away from him. Still, he continued to stalk towards them – confident, cocky – and they looked at him with fear in their eyes, making no move to resist. The battle was over, and Ren had won.

Yet, strangely enough, when it came time for him to deliver the killing blow, Ren found that he could not do it.

The plasma blade of his lightsaber continued to thrum and pulse with energy, and he still felt the exhilarating rush of adrenaline in his blood as he stood tall above his enemies. But for some reason, he simply could not bring himself to raise the weapon high over his head, as he would normally have done, and let it fall soundly upon the leader of the group.

Instead, he looked them squarely in the eyes and said, “You found no one here, and were attacked by a pack of wild animals.”

The bounty hunters froze, confused at first, before straightening up and repeating his words in a dull, monotonous voice.

“We found no one here, and were attacked by a pack of wild animals.”

Ren pocketed his lightsaber and waved them off, and once they became no more than distant specks on the road back to the village, he returned to the house and locked the door behind him.

Hux was waiting for him on the couch, arms crossed, looking characteristically sullen and grumpy. Ren had absolutely refused to let him out of the house, no matter what he said (“It doesn’t matter that I don’t have a _weapon_ , Kylo, I am perfectly capable of taking these people in a fight. I’ll use my teeth if I have to.”). As such, Hux had spent the last ten or so minutes quietly seething to himself and mentally rehearsing all the awful things he planned to say to Ren when he finally came back.

Yet the moment he caught sight of the other man’s face, every spiteful remark and begrudging word of thanks dried up in his mouth.

Ren did not look at all like the triumphant winner of a fight. There was none of the usual posturing or self-satisfied boasting that Hux had long since gotten used to – instead, Ren simply shuffled wordlessly over to Hux’s side and laid his head on his shoulders, sighing heavily. He looked lost and uncertain, and very, very small.

“Kylo?” Hux asked, concerned. “What happened out there?”

“I couldn’t do it.” Ren’s answer was muffled and hollow.

“Couldn’t do…what, exactly?”

“I couldn’t kill him.”

“’Him’?” Hux blinked down at him, growing suddenly afraid. “Was it someone – someone we know?”

“No, no of course it wasn’t.” Hux’s momentary panic seemed to bring him back to himself for a brief second. “I’ve never seen any of them in my life. It’s just – all of a sudden, the thought of actually _murdering_ them in cold blood just…disgusted me. And before you say anything, I know how confusing this must sound. I’m confused too.”

He shifted closer to Hux, seeking support or empathy, or perhaps just someone to hold, and Hux instinctively put his arms around him. Ren leaned into the touch gratefully.

“It got me thinking about all the people I’ve actually killed,” he continued slowly, distantly. “And about – about Han Solo.”

And now he turned to face Hux, and Hux saw that his eyes were bright and wet.

“How much of it was Snoke, Hux? And how much of it was…me?”

Hux didn’t have a proper answer for him, and he suspected that Ren probably wasn’t looking for one anyway. All he needed was for Hux to simply _be there_ as he worked the whole thing through in his mind, and as unsure as Hux was whenever it came to comforting others, he knew that he could at least do that.

So he continued to stay close to Ren, smoothing his hair and running his hands down his back, until the sky grew dark and the silence in the house was broken only by the noisy chatter of birds returning to roost in the trees outside.

Eventually, after a long, long time, Hux bent his head and whispered into the other man’s ears.

“Whatever the case, I’d love you either way.”

And it was an equally long time before Ren finally answered him, in a quiet murmur.

“I know.”

* * *

To Hux, gardening was honestly more of a challenge than a hobby.

It wasn’t as if he particularly loved plants or flowers or anything of the sort, and, as Ren liked to teasingly point out, it wasn’t as if the plants themselves liked him back, given their stubbornness to cooperate with him. Still, Hux was not the type to easily give up when faced with obstacles – rather, it only fuelled his desire to persevere in his efforts, and he spent more and more time outside in the garden under the sun, sweating and swearing colourfully at various clumps of marble-berries and Ithorian roses.

It was now a decade since they had first been sent into exile, and Hux had been itching for something new to do. He had read everything there was to read and watched every holofilm to be found in the little house (they were mostly old, Imperial era flicks, but Hux had always had a soft spot for the classics), and figured that gardening would be interesting to try next. After all, the house already had a garden in the back, and although it hadn’t been tended to in about half a century, Hux was sure that it wouldn’t be too difficult a skill to master.

To his dismay, he proved himself wrong.

“If you have the time to laugh at me from over there,” he called out irritably to where Ren was standing comfortably under the shade of the doorway. “Then you can damn well come over here and help me.”

“No can do, Hux,” Ren shouted back. He sounded annoyingly amused. “You decided to do this all on your own. I really shouldn’t interfere.”

Hux grumbled under his breath and turned back to the shrubs in front of him. He knew that Ren was technically right and that he could stop anytime he wanted, but now that he had started, he absolutely refused to be bested by, of all things, something as small and insignificant as a _flower_. He had read every guide he could find on the holoNet about a thousand times, and he was fairly certain he was making no mistakes. Yet, no matter how much he watered them or how much fertiliser he added, the scraggly bushes and blossoms remained limp and half-dead.

“You know, some people find this relaxing.”

Hux jumped at the voice, and turned to see that despite his earlier words, Ren had decided to come over and join him by the bushes after all. He raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to help me.”

“Who said anything about helping you?”

Hux frowned, though there was no malice behind it.

“So you’re just going to squat here next to me and watch me work?”

Ren offered him a serene smile.

“I like watching you.”

Hux felt his cheeks begin to colour, and blamed it on the heat. Over the years, with no one else around to observe him, Ren had become bolder and more affectionate, taking every opportunity he could to stick close to Hux, nuzzling his hair and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks and his neck. And even though Hux knew he should have long since gotten used to it, given how often it happened, he still found himself blushing every time.

“Don’t do that,” he chided, trying and failing to hide his face behind the watering can he held in his hand. “You sound like a stalker.”

Ren laughed, nudged the can out of the way with the Force, and kissed him.

“Come on, Hux,” he whined, giving the other man a gentle bite on the lips. “Come back inside. If gardening isn’t working out, I know something _else_ we can do…”

“As enticing as that sounds, Kylo, I don’t quite want to track mud all the way to the bedroom.”

“We can do it out here.”

“That’s even worse.”

He broke the kiss and turned back to the plants again. Beside him, Ren pouted and stared moodily at a tuft of blueblossoms.

“Fine,” he huffed, sounding defeated. “What do you need me to help you with?”

Hux hummed thoughtfully, mentally going through the extensive range of flowers and vegetation he was currently trying to coax back to life. He had more than enough water with him right now, and the spade at his side was still in perfectly good condition. Oh, but perhaps the roses could do with some changes…

“Can you get me another flowerpot from the house?”

It was now Ren’s turn to look thoughtful.

“I’m not sure we have any left, actually,” he mused. “I think your lilies used up the last one.”

“Ah, kriff. Well, if you can find something else that at least vaguely resembles a flowerpot, that’d be good too.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Hux watched him saunter back to the house, with his hands in his pockets and the sun in his hair. If someone had told him back in the Academy or in the Order that he would one day find himself living together with _Kylo Ren_ of all people, well, he would have laughed in their face. Yet all the same, here they were, the picture of some sort of odd, idyllic domestic bliss, and, much to Hux’s surprise, it wasn’t as surreal as he had initially thought it would be. Instead, it just simply _was_ , and it felt good and fitting and perfectly right.

After several long minutes of clattering about the house, Ren finally returned holding something dark and familiar in his hands.

It was his helmet.

“This –” He placed the helmet heavily on the ground by Hux’s feet. “– was the best thing I could find. Unless you’d prefer old, cracked bowls from the kitchen cabinet. Or boots.”

In all the time they had spent on the lonely planet, Ren hadn’t worn his iconic helmet even once, and it had spent the last ten years languishing in a corner of the bedroom and gathering dust. Hux stared down at it in consternation, not quite comprehending what was going on.

“Are you actually giving me permission to pour soil into your helmet and grow a plant in it?” He asked hesitantly.

Ren responded with a shrug and a vague noise that Hux took to be an affirmation.  

“Are you – are you sure? I mean this is still –”

“It’s fine,” Ren cut him off, a little too curtly. “It’s not like I need to wear it anymore. And I don’t plan to. You can even bury it if you want.”

Hux didn’t plan on burying it, and he was about to say something more when Ren started talking again.

“I’d better go back in and start preparing dinner soon. What would you like?”

It was at least four hours before dinnertime, but Hux could see that Ren was squirming and itching to find some excuse to escape, so he decided to let him be. Giving up his helmet was obviously a significant turning point in his life, and Hux knew that the best course of action was simply to respect his wishes instead of poking and prodding.

“Anything is fine,” he answered, and Ren hurried back into the house gratefully.

A month later, Hux experienced his first proper success in the garden – the Ithorian roses he’d planted in Ren’s helmet had, against all odds, finally, _thankfully_ , bloomed. He celebrated by moving the makeshift pot closer to the house such that it flanked the doorway tastefully and attractively, a bright spot of colour livening up the otherwise dull walls of the house.

Hux had been worried, at first, about how the other man would react to it. After all, he had all but told Hux to throw the damned helmet away. But then one evening, when Hux was just stepping into the kitchen after having woken from a nap, he happened to chance upon Ren, crouched low by the doorway and illuminated by the light of the setting sun. He was running his hands gently over the delicate blue petals of the flowers, as if afraid that they might crumble in his hands if he wasn’t too careful, and a small proud smile was playing on his lips.

And Hux felt his heart swell with warmth, because he knew, then, that everything was alright.

* * *

Ren awoke in a cold sweat, panting heavily. It was the middle of summer, and the bedroom was humid and dark. Beside him, Hux stirred briefly and cracked open his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I don’t know,” Ren replied, because he honestly didn’t. All he knew was that a part of him suddenly felt hollow and empty, as if it had been viciously carved out with a knife.

It was only when Poe Dameron arrived in his X-wing the following morning that they found out Leia Organa had passed away in the night.

Poe looked older, and greyer. His dark tousled hair was now streaked with silver, and he had wrinkles about his eyes and laugh lines about his mouth. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, and Hux guessed he had been crying all night.

He sat with Ren for a long time at the kitchen table, and they spoke in low hushed tones. Ren’s eyes were glassy, and he kept his gaze fixed on the pattern of the wooden table. Poe, on the other hand, spoke earnestly and emphatically. Hux stood some distance away from them, on the stairs – this was not his conversation to intrude on, and he knew that. Eventually, Poe sighed, patted Ren on the hand, and rose to leave. He gave Hux a perfunctory nod on the way out, and Hux returned the gesture. Seconds later, his X-wing roared back into life and disappeared into the sky.

He was their first and only visitor in twenty years, and he had stayed for only ten minutes.

Hux found Ren slumped at the table, and moved to sit next to him on Poe’s recently vacated seat. Ren didn’t look up, but his hands instinctively reached out to take hold of Hux’s smaller ones.

“The funeral’s tomorrow,” he said, emotionlessly.

“Will you be going?”

“No. Poe says I should and that he can take me there, says that no one will judge me for coming out of exile since I’m her son after all, but…I don’t think I will. I wouldn’t know how to face anyone there.”

Hux nodded in understanding and ran his thumb over Ren’s fingers, which were not warm, as they usually were, but clammy and numb. He had grown up hearing fantastic stories about Leia Organa, and though he had loathed the Resistance with all his being, he secretly harboured a deep admiration for the tough, proud General. And though her death did not affect him as severely as it did Ren, it still served as a sobering reminder that they were all, at the heart of it, only mortal, and that eventually everything they did amounted to nothing but a pile of dead grey ash, easily blown away by the wind. One day he too would die, with no one but Ren to mourn him…

“Don’t do that,” Ren mumbled out of the blue.

“Do what?”

“I can hear your thoughts, they’re very loud.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just…think of something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like…life, perhaps.”

So Hux thought of the sea of bright flowers blooming in the garden outside, purple and blue and red and orange. Of Ren, taking in gulps of air in deep shuddering breaths, his heart beating wildly but beating all the same. And of himself, beside him, tracing the rough, calloused skin of his lover’s hand, as if he had the power to turn back time and smoothen all of its lines and creases.

He thought of all this and more, until finally a new presence eased itself into his mind and said, gratefully, _thank you_.

* * *

Hux awoke to the sound of thunder rumbling deep and low in the far distance. He groaned softly and blinked the sleep from his eyes as he squinted up at the skylight – sure enough, ominous masses of thick grey clouds had already started to gather above them, and he sighed inwardly at the sight. Briefly, he thought of the helmet of Ithorian roses still sitting by the doorway downstairs. It had been there for over a decade now, braving scorching hot summers and countless winter storms, and though the roses were, by some miracle, still doing extremely well, the helmet itself was in bad shape. Its surface was full of cracks and scratches, and fine layers of rust had started to grow in the spaces between the thin metal grooves. Hux considered bringing it inside the house before the rain came, such that it might be spared further torment, but then decided against it – it was a hardy little thing, much like its former owner, and, given that it had survived all the other rains before this, he supposed it could do the same for this one as well.

Now that he gotten that little conundrum out of the way, he settled back comfortably against the headboard and pulled his datapad over to read the day’s news on the holoNet. It was an important part of his morning routine – _wake up, read the news, freshen up, eat breakfast_ – and one which he eagerly looked forward to every day. Ren always said that he found the whole thing unnecessary, because what was the point of keeping up with Coruscant’s fluctuating economy or the politics of Naboo when neither of them would ever set foot in those places ever again? But Hux continued to keep his eyes diligently glued to the screen. As General of the First Order, he had spent much of his time scanning the news for possible signs of growing unrest in the Republic, which he would then seek to exploit and manipulate. These days, however, he merely read the news out of habit, as well as to stave off the boredom of living in exile with not much else to do.

In the middle of his third article, he heard a loud yawn coming from the other side of the bed, and looked over to see Ren sitting up and staring blankly ahead. His silvery-black hair was a tangled, unruly mop atop his head, and their blanket hung about his shoulders in a way that was strangely reminiscent of the cowl he had used to wear. Hux honestly thought it looked rather endearing, but he’d be damned if he ever said it out loud. Ren would never let him live it down.

Hux was just about to go back to his reading when Ren inched himself closer to him and wrapped his arms about his waist, draping the blanket over them both. He pressed his face into the crook of Hux’s neck and sighed as he closed his eyes.

“It’s cold,” he mumbled, and sounding like he might fall back asleep at any moment.

“Good morning to you too, Kylo.”

“Mm.”

Hux gently bumped his head against Ren’s, shifting to lean further into the embrace, and Ren tightened his hold accordingly. He felt warm and secure like this, with Ren curled possessively about him, and while the thought of dozing off again in the other man’s arms was certainly a tempting one, he knew that he would wake up with an ache in his lower back and a crick in his neck if he did. So he simply pulled up the news again on his datapad and willed himself to stay awake.

It was another ten minutes or so before Ren spoke up again, sounding fresher than before.

“Anything interesting?” He asked, inclining his head to indicate Hux’s datapad.

“Not much,” Hux replied, still scrolling through. “Rising housing prices on Coruscant…a landslide on Yavin 4…and – oh.”

That got Ren’s attention, and he sat up a little straighter.

“What is it?”

“It’s a feature commemorating the 25th anniversary of the Hosnian Prime genocide.”

It was difficult for Hux to pronounce those last few words, and they tasted bitter on his tongue. A chilling sense of guilt, one which he had not felt in years, crept up his spine and looped itself around his neck, and he took a deep breath. Genocide was not an easy thing to forgive, and over the years Hux had given up on trying to make peace with himself for it, because it was impossible. Instead, he had simply learnt to detach himself from the flood of shame and remorse that threatened to overwhelm him from time to time, letting it flow through him and then out of him, and after a while the weight around his neck disappeared and he could relax again. He knew that Ren was probably eyeing him with concern, his body stiff with tension, and he gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. _I’m alright_ , he said wordlessly, and felt a gentle brush at the back of his mind in response.

Desperate to change the subject, he scrolled quickly through the rest of the article, which included details of the aftermath and interviews with survivors who had since managed to rebuild their lives on other planets, and finally stopped on a frankly unflattering image of himself at the bottom of the page. He frowned at it.

“Do I really look like that?” He asked.

Ren peered over and squinted at the grainy little silhouette, which showed a much younger Hux giving the viewer one of his trademark scowls. He snorted, and earned himself a light smack from Hux.

“Really? I look awful.”

“No you don’t.” Ren shot him a teasing smirk. “At least, not anymore.”

“ _Kylo_.”

“I’m being serious here, Hux.” He lifted his head from Hux’s shoulders and burrowed it into his hair instead. “To begin with, your hair is greyer now. And thinner.”

“Kylo, I _swear_ –”

But Ren ignored him and pulled him down onto the bed before jumping back up and kissing him square on the lips.

“Plus you smile more now,” he said, and grinned when Hux couldn’t help but do just that.

“Is that so?”

“Mm hmm.”

Hux let out a small whine as Ren broke away and started trailing small, sloppy kisses from his neck to his collarbone and then down his torso. It tickled, and Hux was embarrassed by how much he was laughing and giggling, but he didn’t push Ren away, and Ren didn’t stop. A part of his mind wondered what they must look like right now, two old men all over each other like a pair of oblivious young lovebirds. But the rest of him didn’t care, because there was no one around to see them.

Ren had reached Hux’s stomach, and paused to look up at him again.

“And you’re softer now.” He smiled and rested his head comfortably on it. “Like a pillow.”

Hux scoffed at that, and stretched a hand down to run it affectionately through Ren’s messy hair. Eventually, he knew, one of them would get hungry, and, reluctant as they might be, they would have to leave the bed and make their way down to the kitchen. There was still some marble-berry cake left in the pantry – Hux had made too much of it the day before, and he planned to finish it before it turned stale. He considered taking Ren’s old lightsaber down with him to cut the cake, just because he could, and just to feel, at least for a moment, that they were young again, and reckless, without a care in the world.

But for now, he was content to simply remain with Ren on the bed, in a tangle of limbs and sheets and blankets, listening to the soft patter of rain upon the rooftops and feeling that, without a doubt, he had finally come home. 

_End._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I'm on Tumblr too --> iambnotwhatiamb.tumblr.com


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